For Vindecation
by BreeBumbleBee
Summary: Mary Eunice had shunned the baby she'd given birth to six months prior. It was the most traumatic thing she had ever endured, and she could not believe why that man had wanted to keep it.
1. Estranged Encounters

**Mary Eunice had shunned the baby she'd given birth to six months prior. It was the most traumatic thing she had ever endured, and she could not believe why that man had wanted to keep it.** She had already lost her clerical position, why would he force himself into such a position where he'd have to lose his too? She could only imagine it was due to all of his wrong doings at Briarcliff Institution. He felt as if raising his daughter instead of orphaning the child would somehow be penance for strangling Shelly, allowing for Jude's imprisonment, hiring a Nazi doctor,-the crimes were endless.

If Mary had any care in the world for the safety of her child, she'd have never allowed him to take the girl under his wing. That was the thing. She hadn't a care. She surely didn't want to take the fretful baby home in her arms. As far as Mary Eunice was concerned, she left Briarcliff restored to her previous state of piousness. A new person. Timothy could keep the baby to restore his conscience. She could move on.

Zipping her blue dress up from the back, then reaching backwards over her shoulder and tugging the zip completely up, Mary thought of all possible events that could play out that day. She'd always been good at teaching, and was entirely as excited as she could be, given the circumstances. She hadn't seen the baby in three whole months, but it's father seemed to be doing well for it. It. She had to remind herself, that her- his daughter had a name. Dorothy. He named his daughter Dorothy Jude. "What a joke..." she thought, combing her pale blonde hair.

Mary turned off the ignition to her car, and sat there enveloped in her thoughts. Sunday school teaching wasn't the best job in the world, and it certainly wasn't her choice of venue, but it was what she deserved. Briarcliff had finally managed to relocate her, renounce her vows, and still allow her to serve God. The child's father had immediately renounced, and left Briarcliff on his own terms. The institution soon failed without his presence, and became an influx for local prisons. Mary was happy to leave. And so was he. She was also happy he left. The product of their sins had been a wet screaming monster, bound to it's host for at least 18 years.

As she walked into the church, her daughter was the first thing she heard. She'd know that cry for the rest of her life, how could she forget it? Standing at the front, speaking with some patrons, was Timothy. He was holding Dorothy close to him, gently bouncing her, lulling her to stop crying. Mary, quoting Lana Winter's Maniac, could not believe this Cosmic joke. She turned on her heels and immediately walked out, just as Timothy caught her eye.

"Sister Eunice?"

But it was too late, the doors had already shut. He politely nodded to the folks he was speaking with, indicating his urgency to leave, and walked briskly towards the exit. As he entered the parking lot, he scanned the area for her. Noticing the lights flicker on a black Falcon, he jogged over, while trying to calm his screaming baby.

"Mary stop!" he shouted, as she fumbled with her keys, tears pooling in her eyes.

"I can't do this Timothy." she said, turning on the ignition.

"Just talk to me Mary! You show up in my city, at my church, and I'm expecting some explanations! For half a second I thought you'd came to see our daughter!" he said, over Dorothy's cries.

"It was a mistake, this was all a mistake." she said, in regard to her placement. She slumped in her seat, "I've messed up so badly."

Timothy starred at her with her head in her hands, and took the keys from the ignition. The only noise now was from Dorothy.

"Everything is okay. Shhh" he cooed over the child, coaxing her to silence, to no avail.

"Let me see her." Mary said, wiping her tears away. He just stared. She was beautiful even when she cried.

"Get out of the car first." Timothy thought of all of the ways he could convince Mary Eunice to stay.

"Timothy you have my keys for fucks sake."

"Sister!"

"I'm not," she paused, glancing at her bare left index finger, "a Sister anymore." Mary ran her hands through her hair, then tightly gripped the wheel. She pushed open the door, and slowly stepped out of her car. She could smell the baby powder and formula on her daughter.

Timothy gently handed over the infant. Mary grazed her palm over her soft cheek, and sighed in shame. Shame that she had relations with the Monsignor Howard, shame that she had broken the trust Sister Jude once had in her, shame that she has a daughter resulting from infidelity, and shame that she abandoned that daughter. She was much worse for wear after the devil had found a better occupant. It had changed her. Gently humming to her, the baby had ceased to cry, and looked up at her mother with the same blue eyes.

"Mr and Mrs Tillman, pleasure seeing you here." Mary glanced up, Timothy turned around and was talking to a small family. There was man, woman in a strange green dress, and their two children. She watched as the older sister wet her finger, and stuck it into the younger boy's ear. He shouted and threw his gum straight into her hair. Mary decided family life really wasn't for her,...

"Oh she's such a doll,"

'Are they talking to me?' Mary wondered, as her attention stayed on the two kids now chasing each other through the church playground. So carefree, she thought about what they'd think if they knew of the horrible world that was to come for them.

She glanced over, flashing a fake smile.

"Mary Eunice, this is Thomas and Julia Tillman."

She awkwardly attempted to hold out her right hand to shake hands with them, noticing how clammy Julia's hands were.

"Well isn't she the cutest thing?" Julia inquired, gently playing with the baby's hands. "I tell ya, she looks exactly like you."

"She's-" Timothy was cut off

"Thank you, she does doesn't she?"

The kids had stopped to stare at her. Pastor Howard had always said Dorothy Jude's mother was far far away, in a place much worse than what you can imagine. They assumed she was in hell. Did she rise up from the dead? The two kids now stood shyly behind their parents.

"Oh absolutely." Julia spoke, letting go of the infants small hands and turning to Timothy.

"It's a pleasure for you to finally introduce us. We've been wondering where she's been hiding all this time! Dorothy's mother, that is."

As they turned to the church, continuing to snicker and sneer, Timothy sighed. Mary shuddered at the word. Mother. She didn't deserve such a title. She'd held the girl for less than 10 minutes in her whole life. Now, suddenly, she was a mother?

"If you would, please." He said, reaching for the baby.

Mary gently handed her back, before crossing her arms over her chest. She could sense he was bitter and confused. The silence was killing her, the only noise being the slight breeze in the winter air. She shivered, biting her bottom lip and glancing at the building, deciding wether to stay or depart.

"I should be getting her inside, she had a terrible cough last week. Kept me up with her until the earliest hours of daylight." Timothy said, getting a good look at Mary. Her pale blue dress surely didn't fit the part she was intended to play. He found it odd that she felt so comfortable showing so much leg after being required to wear a habit for nearly two years. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy it, despite how much he wanted to hate it.

"Well?" he said. What Timothy wanted wasn't for Mary to mother their daughter, he wanted more of her for himself.

She gave him a questioning look.

"Come along." he said, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her to the church. They had been fond of physical contact back at Briar cliff. But still Mary was surprised at this gesture. She stepped ahead out of his touch, and stopped outside of the grand doors. She looked at Timothy, and Dorothy playing with her thin gold baby bracelet.

"This is all too wrong, I can't be here. I'm sorry. I really am." spoke the young ex-nun, gently kissing her daughter's cheek and starting to walk away.

"It is God's will Mary." shouted Timothy after her, grabbing her attention.

"What is?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She swept the hair from her face as it was tossed around by the wind.

"That you be here today, see Dorothy once again, be a mother to this child you created."

Mary Eunice stood staring. She couldn't raise a child. Emotionally she was a child herself. Dorothy now had her key's in her tiny hands, fiddling furiously with them.

"You have my keys." she said.

Timothy handed them over.

And then, she left.


	2. Broken China

It was a year and a half later that they met again.

Mary Eunice had found a job elsewhere, working for an elderly woman in her antique shop. She hadn't a clue what to do with her life, and a clerical education wasn't worth much in the 60s. Friends didn't come easily for her, and her closest friend was Sylvia. The elderly woman.

The doorbell rang as Mary Eunice walked into the shop, she checked her watch to be sure she wasn't late.

"Mary, dear, come here please" Sylvia spoke from across the tiny shop, gesturing her over.

"I have a gentleman coming in later to pick up that piece, right there." she said, pointing to an old, black enamel telephone. It looked to be from the 1890s, by Mary's judgement. She reached up to grab it for the old woman, only to knock it over. It clashed and clattered against the marble floor.

"Mary dear be careful! I swear it's as if you have half of a brain sometimes." she said, reaching to pick up the arrayed object.

"I got it, I'm sorry. It was an honest mistake." Mary said, picking up the jumbled telephone and walking it to the front desk. She attempted to put it back into its original stance to no avail, the microphone piece fell wonky and the stand was now bent. She sighed, rubbing her temples. It was going to be another long day.

"Sylvia?" Mary called out for her attention. "When is this man stopping by?" she inquired.

"Half past 6 dear."

Mary winced. Normally the shop was open from 8 in the morning to 7:30 in the evening. Often they closed much earlier, due to the lack of customers. This man had the nerve to interfere with her evening. Mary rolled her eyes. Not like she had anything to do.

Slowly, but surely, 7:30 came around. She had counted a total of four customers for the whole day, none of them below the age of fifty. The job was a deathly bore. Mary had been asked to close up the shop that evening by Sylvia, who needed to take her afternoon pills. Sylvia wasn't used to being awake so "late" at night. Mary took on this duty, as she normally had any day the store stayed open, in stride. She walked to the double back doors, locking each one carefully before pulling the blinds. It was only as she was headed towards the front door that the bell rang, scaring her badly. Mary Eunice tripped, tipping over an ancient chinese vase of sorts. She watched as it shattered against the floor.

"Fuck." Mary sat there on the ground, entirely sick of working in a store full of dedicates. The tears began to stream down her face, and before she knew it her breath hitched in her throat. She hadn't noticed the man who entered the store and began to walk over.

His shadow and cologne failed to phase her as the marble floor below her was pattered with tears. He glanced around for a broom, and began to sweep up the broken china.

"I'm sorry,... Rough day. You can put the broom down, I got it." Mary said, watching the man. He really didn't need to do that. She began to wipe away her tears and compose herself, taking a deep breath in.

He leant it against the counter, made his way over to her, offering a hand to her as she wept away her tears. He helped her up, his face disguised by the darkness.

He held on to her hand a little longer than a friendly gesture, and placed his other hand over it. She grinned through her frustration, golden hair falling over her shoulders as she looked at the ground.

"Bull in a china shop?"

Mary recognized that voice. She pulled her hand from his grip and stepped back. Why was he here? Had he come to try to convince of her daughter again? Or worse?

"Timothy, please just leave. I'm moving on, if this is how I do it, then so be it."

"Woah Mary calm down," he said, walking back towards the counter. On top lay his antique telephone. He ran his hand along the bent microphone piece.

"The woman who owns this shop didn't mention it was damaged." he said

Mary looked at the ground as she made her way around the other side of the counter. She nodded to him, touching it herself.

"Mistake of mine."

His eyes grazed over her in the better lighting. She had on a pastel purple sweater, over some kind of mid thigh length dress. Her hair had grown a bit, but she'd kept the sunshine bangs; instead of under a wimple, it fell naturally over her shoulders. Still the Devine creature he once knew.

"Really?"

"I knocked it over."

"I see that..." He spoke, sighing.

"Look, Timothy, Sylvia is mad enough at me as is. And this ridiculous place is the only job I could find right now. I'll pay for it. Just take it out of my sight. She won't know the difference. I don't think-"

"Mary, Mary." he said in a calming, serene voice. He placed a hand over hers on the counter. She felt everything come back to her in a wave of sadness.

"She's turning two Saturday." he said, as if he'd read her thoughts.

Mary stood in silence, watching her hand underneath his.

"I have some pictures, if you wish to see." he said, grabbing at his wallet with his other hand, and flipping it open to show her.

Mary leant in, gazing at the string of photos before her. Dorothy stood, one little hand on her hip, the other on a tree, smiling as large as she could. Her white blonde hair still had its baby curls at the ends.

"She talks so much, one couldn't even imagine her being- our daughter. She's incredibly outgoing, ran right out the front door to greet the post man the other day." Timothy said, grinning.

"She also sounds rather English when she's angry." he mentioned, closing the wallet.

The feeling inside Mary's stomach was one she couldn't describe. Steel butterflies fluttering around maybe?

"Timothy that's..." She had lost her train of thought.

"Ah," he gently moved his hand away.

"No, Timothy that's... adorably hilarious. She's quite peculiar isn't she?"

"Very much so. She only eats Cheerios with strawberries in them, and hates it when her brother sings to her. Or interrupts her musical renditions."

Mary's whimsical picturing of her daughter came to a wavering halt, as she felt like she'd been hit by a train. He'd recovered so quickly? Already had a little brother for young Dorothy? She couldn't speak, as she tried to glance to his left ring finger for any indications of a band.

"Her brother?" she said, voice cracking. Mary was grateful for the faulty lighting in the small shop, for the redness that took over her felt unbearably hot. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding.

"James, he's five. Step brother I should say properly, to be."

She nodded quickly, then looked away.

"You're welcome to stop by, Mary, whenever you'd like. She's too young for anything to traumatize her now. And Sarah has been a wonderful mother figure to her. Dorothy hasn't been missing out on much." he said, watching her tantalizingly as she walked around the counter, and stopped mere inches from him.

Her hand grazed over his cheek, gently touching his lower lip with her thumb. She was insanely jealous of the life he'd made after everything, but also knew that he deserved to move on.

She stepped in closer, as he enveloped her in his arms.

"I am so sorry Timothy." she whimpered into his chest.

"She's a blessing." she heard him say as he smoothed over her hair, then resting his head atop hers.

"It has changed me. Don't ever be sorry for bringing her to this earth. She is..." he stopped to gently lift Mary's chin, dusting away her tears.

"She is my angel."

"Dorothy need'st be somebody's." Mary said.

"After all that we've done, been through, survived; Mary Eunice you will always haunt me. And you know that if you ever change your mind-"

He grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eye. Her stare shyed away, as it normally did.

"-really change your mind, that I would do anything for you Mary."

He set his check down for the telephone, took it into his arms, and made his way towards the door.

"I'd do anything."

The ringing of the front door opening, then shutting, brought her back to reality. She wasn't going to fool herself for a minute longer that day, he'd been the only thing on her mind for the past year. If he thought she haunted him, she couldn't imagine what he was doing to her. Constantly wondering, constantly curious, mildly anxious with every thought of him and Dorothy.

Mary found herself running outside along the sidewalk, catching some odd glances. She caught him by the wrist.


	3. Game Change

A/N- Sorry for the short chapter! The next one has been written, I'm just making minor tweaks. If you're reading, please review. :) Thanks!

She caught him by the wrist.

"Timothy we need to talk." she spoke, letting go of him.

He noticed the way her hair caught the wind, as if it could've been a movie scene.

"Why not right here?" he asked, as he adjusted his scarf with one hand, setting the antique down inside of his car.

"It's frigid, and I'd rather have a little privacy."

"Honestly Mary, what more is there to say? We lost our jobs, had a child, and moved on with life. Now it's entirely up to you wether you want to be a figure in her upbringing or not."

"It's not that simple, it's never been that simple."

"Give me one good reason as to why it's not?"

"I was enveloped by darkness, a darkness you can't imagine. In the past, I couldn't help but feel that Dorothy came from that darkness."

She brushed the hair out of her face, caught by the wind again.

"And this simply isn't how I wanted my life to turn out. I was prepared to devote my life to God, Timothy. I don't believe you understand how large of a commitment that was. That time after Dorothy, I came to you damaged, believing that you were the only person I knew who was as broken as I was. Because I broke you myself. But you...You turned out to be as corrupt as the rest of them."

Timothy began to speak, but was cut off.

"The things that happened at Briarcliff,... you can't tell her, they'd destroy her innocence and perception of this fluid world."

Timothy nodded, "I never planned to tell her a dime of it. It's quite refreshing you know? Living with a careless child, the horrors of the world unbeknownst to her."

"Keep it that way." Mary said, looking at her shoes.

"I can assure you that Dorothy will never know anything."

"One last thing" she spoke.

"Living with change has been all too common for me. This last one has been rather difficult, given that I thought God was my last resort, and being pushed away from him,- Timothy I can see how much good Dorothy has done for you. I can see it with my own two eyes how greatly you've changed. It's almost surreal. So, your,- your answer is yes."

Timothy stood there dumbfounded. What had she just agreed to?

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'd love to come to Dorothy Jude's birthday celebration." Mary said, clasping her hands in front of her.

A grin grew on Timothy's face, and he grabbed both of Mary's hands in his own.

"You won't regret it."

Instantly she knew she made the right choice.

"I regret every decision I make." she stated as she did something entirely unexpected, pressing her lips to his. Her hands came up to his face, tilting him downward for better contact. It was an attraction she couldn't really combat, nor explain for that matter. Father of her child, English, intelligent, he was many years her senior. For a second she believed she had a daddy complex, simply from kissing him.

"Still broken?" he asked as he pulled away slightly.

"As I'll ever be." she said, pressing back into him, deepening the sinful kiss as her tongue grazed past his own.

She pulled back, shivering, then tucked both of her arms under his coat. Timothy smiled at how cute he found her, and rested his head atop hers, everything else was irrelevant.

"You know what Tim?" she asked, muffled by the fabric. He was slightly taken aback by the nickname, as he hadn't been called that since High school.

"Hm?"

"This is the most normal moment I've ever had with you." she said, withdrawing herself from his coat and crossing her arms to avoid to cold.

"Here, take it." Timothy said as he removed it, and placed it over her shoulders. She smiled at him.

"I'll have it back to you," she paused and rose a finger to pause the conversation, remembering the date. Timothy noticed this quirk, he became fond of it at Briarcliff. "Saturday."

"Saturday." he said, still grinning.

"That," she spoke, lowering her voice, "didn't happen. I know, your wife and all, it just felt-"

"In the moment?" he questioned as she nodded.

She began to walk back to the tiny store to finish locking up, as he shouted her name after her.

"She's not my wife!"

Mary laughed, as if the fact that he hadn't been wed to the woman somehow justified their indiscretion.

"Goodbye Tim." she waved, turning around.


	4. Mini Me

Immediately she felt uncomfortable, pulling up to the rather large house on Lake View Blvd. She was late, and already missed most of the events. The amount of cars lined up in drive way and trailing down the street was ridiculous. She found herself wondering how a two yearold could have so many friends.

Eventually, nearing the end of the street, she had found an empty (legal) parking spot. She reached into the back seat and pulled out her gift for Dorothy. She hadn't a clue what to buy for a two year old, so she settled for something pink. And sparkly. And wrapped it up in paper that was pink. And sparkly.

The music coming from the backyard was unrecognizable to her, and there were balloons tied to the mailbox. She glanced at a small group of adults on the porch as she approached the front door. They all seemed to have a similar curious look on their faces.

She knocked twice. They obviously couldn't hear her over all the chatter. Should she just walk in? Just as she reached for the doorbell, the door swung open.

A woman, about 5'5, deep brown hair and green eyes, opened the door. Her attire was impeccable, and her shoes could kill. The woman quickly masked her unexpected expression with a fake grin, and stuck her hand out.

"You must be Mary Eunice." she said as Mary shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Sarah?" she questioned.

"It's lovely having you here..." Sarah exclaimed. "Why don't you come in? Join the party." she said, stepping out of the doorway.

As Mary entered the house she was amazing by it's grandeur.

"James!" Sarah shouted in no particular direction, and he came jogging over.

"Mom?" he said, wearing a superman cape and tshirt.

"I'd like you to meet Mary Eunice."

He waved at her. The little boy had green eyes also.

"Now if you could go set this down on the gift table for Mary, and you can go keep playing with your friends."

The boy gently lifted the pink, sparkling box from her hands and ran off with it into another room.

"Please excuse his manners, boys will be boys." Sarah spoke.

Mary didn't wish to question this, but she hadn't noticed anything wrong with the young boy's manners.

"He's quite alright."

The pattering of a toddler's running footsteps took her attention, Mary looked around to see a young girl running through the house, zooming past guests left and right. And she was shouting the most particular thing. It was capturing everyone's attention.

"Mama! Mama!"

It was her. Mary stepped aside, allowing the girl to run for Sarah. But she didn't. She barreled into Mary's legs full speed, gripping onto her as tightly as she could.

"Mama yer here. Dada said you'd be here n you are. Yer here." she exclaimed in a 2 year old slur, face pressed to her knees. She was shaking from excitement.

Mary froze up. What was the most appropriate thing to do in this case? Pry her daughter off and hand her to Sarah, the woman who had raised her? Or just accept the greeting, ignoring all parental consequences? She stood, staring downwards as Timothy soon followed after the toddler.

"Dori!" Timothy scooped his daughter into his arms, only to result in extremely loud crying.

Her broken-cries turned into hyperventilation as Timothy gently bounced her up and down, brushing her blonde hair from her face. She continued to fuss, reaching back for Mary.

"Jesus Christ Timothy just give her to her." Sarah proclaimed.

Timothy shot her a look.

"Dori, princess behave yourself." he said to her, walking back towards Mary. The closer he got, the quieter she became, grasping and ungrasping her little hands to her mother.

"Ti-Timothy I can't. She's, it's too-"

Mary looked confused as Timothy handed Dorothy to her, unsure of what to do. Dorothy took quickly to playing with Mary's hair, tangling the curled ends. She held her tightly, as if she'd never have the chance to again. Mary hadn't realized the commotion she had caused, but Sarah and Timothy sure did.

Sarah felt shamed; In front of her friends, Dorothy's friends parents, Timothy, she hadn't ever been so embarrassed. The broken girl standing in the foyer obviously didn't belong.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what's gotten into her!" Timothy exclaimed, trying to suppress a grin that was dying to be let out. Sarah sneered.

Nobody knew what to do in this exact situation, after all, who would?

"I'm glad you could make it here today Mary, this means a lot to Dorothy."

"I've been told she's grown to be quite the character,... It's very much so true."

Everyone was staring at the young blonde mother and child. Everybody knew who she was, if it wasn't obvious enough. The ex-nun who'd supposedly raped Timothy, forced him into sex against his will. Sarah now rolled her eyes at the thought. That girl didn't actually do that. She couldn't possibly. She knew everybody who saw her thought so also.

Sarah eyed her from top down, Mary had worn a dated 50's style A-line dress. It was white and cinched at her waist, flowing out into a frock that ended somewhere on her thighs, pattered with blue and pink roses. It reflected her youth. Sarah immediately knew from the moment she saw it, it was to impress her Timothy. The dress had thin straps that tied above her shoulders and Dorothy took to playing with them. Sarah couldn't believe the girl. Either of them. Mary Eunice, for showing up, or Dorothy, for clinging to her like a baby bird.

There were no familiar faces to Mary. She glanced around with the toddler in her hands. No Judith, obviously, no Kit nor Grace and her baby. After her hospitalization, she came back to find that they were gone. Mary knew that Timothy had invited them on account of how close the three were, she could tell by his turnaround it would be something he'd do. They'd obviously not forgiven him so easily, and it's understandable to her why they would not.

Timothy was called upon by James, and Sarah took it upon herself to entertain a group of her friends, walking away without a word.

"Hello Dorothy." Mary said, as she walked outback with her daughter. Children of all ages chased after each other in the chilled pool. Mary shivered at the thought. She wouldn't allow the horrific memories to flood her mind.

"Hi mama." she replied, now chewing on the string strap of her dress. Mary gently removed it from her mouth.

Mary sat in a patio chair with her in her arms.

"Is Sarah not your Mama?"

"No." the toddler replied in a whisper. She stared out into space, her large blue eyes squinting in the distance.

Mary was truly puzzled by her daughter, and ran her hands through the girls fine hair. She hadn't seen her in over a year, there was no way Dorothy recognized her merely by looks. Timothy had to have done this. There was no other way.

"Why'd you call me your Mama?" Mary asked, now with the same blue eyes staring up at her own.

Dorothy tilted her head, as if she did not understand. Why else would she call her mama?

"Do you know how old you are today Dori?" she asked, tickling her stomach.

Dorothy held up two small fingers through her giggling. Mary sighed.

"You're growing up so fast little one."

"Yea!" she replied, playing with Mary's hair again.

Mary could almost imagine a life if she had kept Dorothy. She was the spitting image of herself as a child, expect outgoing. She'd already adapted an admiration for her daughter, she wished she'd never change. Her attention was brought back to reality by her daughter's words.

"You stay?"

Mary grinned, but inside she was deeply worried. That question, so simple, she found extremely troubling. She nodded her head. That was the most she could do.

Soon Dorothy leant her head against Mary's shoulder, spent from all of the days activities.

"C'mon little angel." she said, gently lifting her so to not wake her. She covered Dorothy's ears because the older children were loud.

As she reentered the house, all eyes were on her again.

"Timothy!" she whispered into the kitchen, trying to get his attention.

He walked over, touching Dorothy's shoulder.

"She's tired so early, on her own birthday." Timothy said, taking her from Mary's arms. The snoozing toddler looked around, dazed, before holding her arms out to Mary. Before the crying could start again,Timothy handed her back.

"I'll show you where her room is." Timothy said, as Dorothy yawned in Mary's face, causing her to stifle a laugh.

Mary gently laid her down, and tucked a blanket around her. She placed a bear in with her from a nearby shelf.

"No no, dear, she doesn't like sleeping with those. They frighten her."

Mary removed it, and gave him an odd glance.

"Oh!" he said, realizing his error. "Mary I'm sorry, slipped up, no 'Dear'."

Mary tried not to laugh as to wake the toddler, and strode out of the room.

"I have your jacket at home." she stated, as Timothy pulled the door closed gently.

He nodded.

"I guess this means you'll have to visit again." he said.

Those weren't her intentions, but she hadn't intended on forgetting his jacket in the first place. But she, in all honesty, did want to stop by again.

"I will. I should get going now, lots to be done." Mary knew she had nothing to do in reality.

"You should stay, she only naps for about an hour. And you wish to see her open her gifts don't you?"

"Timothy, I'm not very much of a welcomed guest in your home." she said blatantly.

"At least meet me- meet us, sometime at somewhere, this week?" he asked of her. He didn't know why, but now that she was in his life, he didn't want her to leave. He'd now blame it on Dorothy, and the importance of her mother.

"Timothy I work everyday. Trying to stay afloat here."

He scoffed.

"You know? Most people would be led to believe that by taking Dorothy, I'm burdened. That my life should face more struggles than yours, deemed fickle and irresponsible. But that's far from the truth."

Mary rubbed her shoes together and nodded.

"I don't think I could ever thank you enough for such a blessing." he said, grasping her hands into his.

"I'm glad you see it as so," she spoke, biting her bottom lip. She couldn't help but feel timid when he shed his optimistic opinions on the situation.

"There's no other way to see it."

Mary smiled, "If you don't mind?" she said, gesturing to the stairs.

"If you must." he said, grinning back.

Mary quickly pulled a pen from her purse, and wrote on a nearby phone message pad her telephone number.

"Incase Dorothy needs me, or anything," she awkwardly said as she handed Timothy the paper.

"If she knows I have this, she'll be wanting me to dial you constantly." He said, sticking it in his front pocket.

"Let her. She's wonderful."

It was around midnight, and the day was coming to an end in the Howard household. Dorothy had been asleep for hours after dinner, and the party clean up seemed endless. But nonetheless, it had all been cleaned.

"I don't like her." Sarah spoke, as Timothy read yesterday's newspaper.

"You don't have to like her, she's Dorothy's mother."

"What do you mean Timothy?" Sarah asked, tugging on his paper.

"I mean, she seems as if she's here to stay. And Dori seems to adore her."

"You can't be serious. You think that whore is going to stick around?"

Timothy set his paper down and just stared at his fiancée: Dumbfounded by what she had proclaimed.

"You have zero right to talk about Dorothy's mother in such a fashion. She's far from what you call a whore. If my thoughts are straight, she's probably slept with one person in her entire life. While possessed. Zero concent on either behalf."

Sarah stood up, anger running through her veins.

"Can you cut the 'Possession' bull shit out? We all know it's a filthy lie! Why'd you make it up Timothy? To remain an 'honorable man'?" she shouted, massaging her temples.

"Because you -left the church- with a -baby-, you my dear are far from honorable."

Timothy now stood also, folding his paper under his arm, and grabbing his watch off the night stand.

"Sarah, love, take time for yourself to calm down. I'll see you in the morning." he spoke as he exited, headed to the all-too-common guest bedroom.

Matters in the McKee household were just as unsettling.

Mary Eunice had just closed up shop after her afternoon shift in Sylvia's store. The walk to her tiny apartment seemed endless, and who she found inside gave way to quite a shock.

She took off her shoes, leaving them squared away in the stone entry way floor.

Dropping her keys on the kitchen counter, she noticed the bathroom light was left on. As she approached, the sound of a person sloshing around in the bath tub caught her attention.

"Who's there?" she spoke, mind racing but body frozen.

"Mary, if you could be a doll and grab me a towel. I couldn't find where on earth you keep them!"


End file.
